#gintober

Gintoki’s unmoving cock sits hot and heavy inside your cunt as you straddle him on his office chair. You rest your forehead on his shoulder and take shallow breaths as sweat marks a slow trail down the back of your neck, into your stuffy kimono.

The seconds feel like hours in this stasis. You swallow and clutch the fabric of his black shirt between your fingers. “H-How much longer?” you carefully ask.

He knocks the lollipop in his mouth to his cheek and speaks with a dead tone, as if he wasn’t currently spearing your pussy in his living room-slash-office, where people could—and have—freely walk in. “Why’d you wanna know?” he retorts, “You’re not giving up already, are you?”

Ugh. This was a bad idea. A terrible, horrible, awful idea to challenge Gintoki in something sexual. Especially when it puts a sadist in a position of control. Especially when you’re something of a masochist.

Your shoulders tense as you hear the slow turning of another page. The immense pressure laying against your walls makes it weakly clamp down. Your thighs are starting to cramp. How much longer?

Gintoki isn’t especially known for his self-control, so why does it feel like you’ll be the first to break?

Your breathing stops altogether as Gintoki adjusts his position on the seat, securing his arm tightly around your waist and unfairly preventing you from wiggling your hips as he shifts. Giving you only the slightest brush of your clit against his pants and the smallest rock of his hips, he stalls.

Still edging you on the cusp of pleasure; still leaving you unsatisfied.

You really regret provoking him. You can’t even recall what you’d said to get him riled up and eager to prove a point; your brain was mushy: too focused on keeping yourself frozen-stiff and trying not to implode.

“Relax.” Gintoki’s words send a shiver straight down your spine and into your cunt.

That’s easy for him to say.

You try to lift your head from his shoulder, but his large hand shifts from your waist to cradle your nape and firmly pushes you back down. Your hips have a brief moment of freedom that you abuse without a second thought, adjusting your hips so his cock isn’t firmly pressing against your cervix.

Gintoki’s hand comes off your neck and lands hard on your thigh. “Stay still,” he grunts as the impact makes you keen, “your big head is blocking my view.”

What he wouldn’t let you see is how he hasn’t gone past a single page since you sat on his cock. He flips through the same panels over and over again, the words and the drawings blur and blending together. His entire concentration is spent keeping himself controlled so he doesn’t blow his load prematurely—but the way you tremble while your cunt flutters around him is driving him up the wall.

The air grows tense as neither one of you willingly admits defeat. Your breaths are strained with a whine every time Gintoki’s dick twitches, tempting you to give in and beg to be fucked. Gintoki’s nails dig crescent moons into your waist through your clothes, itching to pull you down and grind his hips up into you until you sob for mercy.

He’d never admit it out loud, but Gintoki—for all intents and purposes—is not afraid to cheat.

Gintoki startles you suddenly by throwing his long legs up from the floor, leaning back in the chair, and crossing them on the corner of his desk. You squeal with the violent shift, holding onto his broad shoulders for dear life as his cock seems to bury deeper into your cunt.

“T-That’s unfair..! You’re not—supposed to move—either!” you weakly smack his shoulder, shaking like a leaf on his lap. The pressure against your lower abdomen spiked. You know you can’t last much longer.

“I can’t even get comfortable?” Gintoki taunts, trying to provoke more of a reaction so he can claim both bragging rights and your pussy. “You’re the one moved shifted first, you know. If you can’t handle it, you can tell Gin-san.”

“You—”

A series of sharp knocks interrupt their bickering. You freeze. Another knock at the door.

“Boss?” A familiar voice calls out from behind the front door. “Are you in? I have something important!”

It’s Yamazaki.

You blanch and immediately try to pull yourself off Gintoki before Yamazaki could walk in on you, but Gintoki slams you back down onto his lap before you could rise an inch. 

“Gintoki, we can’t!” you whisper desperately.

He doesn’t budge. “Suck it up,” he hisses back, “endure it quietly until he leaves.” There’s no way he could hide his erection if you got off of him now. If he’s going to be blue balled, he might as well be buried in your warmth.

Yamazaki calls out again, a little louder.

Gintoki smooths out their clothes and wraps his arms around your trembling body, holding you against him to fool Yamazaki into believing that you two were cuddling. “Come in.” he dryly responds.

You breathe through your nose and square your shoulders, grateful that Gintoki’s arms are at least large enough to cover up most of the tension. You bite Gintoki’s shoulder to keep yourself quiet, wetting his shirt with saliva and tears as you try to relax and play along, but Gintoki is just so big.

Yamazaki walks in, seemingly oblivious to the situation. He greets the head of the Yorozuya loudly but cuts himself off as soon as he sees Gintoki holding you against his chest. “Ah,” Yamazaki covers his mouth with his hand and goes from a near-yell to a whisper, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“It’s fine. She’s a heavy sleeper.” Gintoki snaps at the Shinsengumi spy, his lips in a flat line and clearly not in the mood to entertain. “What do you want.”

You can hear the hesitation in Yamazaki’s voice. You feel bad for him; whatever face Gintoki’s making right now is definitely scaring the shit out of him. But you really, really need him to leave. Gintoki probably feels the same way.

“I—um—was asked to inform you that Kondou-san requested your help in—"

“When?” Gintoki cuts him off.

Yamazaki shuffles around nervously. “T-Tomorrow.”

“Then bother me later,” Gintoki waves Yamazaki off, all but explicitly kicking him out, “and tell Gorilla to send me a letter with cash in it a week in advance next time!”

“R-Right!” Yamazaki bows his head but lingers for a second too long, staring suspiciously. He can’t help it; he’s trained to see the little details. But Gintoki is faster than he is, and kicks his foot across the table, sending the book flying straight into the poor man’s face.

Yamazaki is quick to apologize as he runs out the door with a new bruise on his head, leaving you in silence as you hear his hasty rush down the wooden steps.

You raise your face from Gintoki’s shoulder, a string of saliva connecting his shirt to your mouth with how hard you’d been biting him. Dazed and shamelessly bucking your hips for friction, you make eye contact with Gintoki for the first time since you started this pointless challenge.

“Toki,” you part your wet lips, “can’t take it anymore...”

 Gintoki pushes the chair back and cups your ass, effortlessly lifting you up and onto the table as his chair hits the wall. You watch him tear off his shirt, soaked with your spit and salty tears, and toss it behind him, still writhing uselessly against his cock.

He heaves each breath over you, staring intensely as you stay sprawled out on the middle of his desk, equally flushed. Equally wanting. He nearly breaks the table with how much force he uses to bend over you.

“Fuck it.” 

You sighed and adjusted your tote filled to the brim with herbs, fruits, and vegetables across your shoulder. You felt heavier than usual; your steps slow and breath ragged, and you briefly wondered if you somehow caught some illness with rapid-onset symptoms. Your thoughts began to feel fuzzy as you stumbled to a stop in front of Otose’s Snack House, staring up at your home with a strange expression. Maybe you really were sick, you thought as you forced your feet up the stairs.

But where could you have gotten this? You went out into town for just a few hours to restock the fridge with actual food for once. It’s true that the pollen in Edo today was particularly bad—which was strange for this time of year—but stranger things have happened in the world of Gintama.

You rubbed your temple with the heel of your palm, your throbbing headache only getting worse. Maybe you should take a nap... You opened the door and announced your return with a grumble, sliding off your shoes and setting the tote down on the sofa.

“You look like shit,” Gintoki greeted while sucking lazily on a lollipop, “did you get sick again or something?”

You shrugged half-heartedly and opened the door to the bedroom, ignoring the pull in your chest to cuddle up to Gin. If you really were sick, you shouldn’t let him catch it too. “I’m going to take a nap, please turn down the TV.”

“Okay,” he drawled, returning his attention to the news broadcast as you shut the door behind you.

Gintoki leaned back into the couch, crossing his legs widely and hanging his arms over the back as he stared mindlessly at Ketsuno Ana—his long-time celebrity crush—only for the broadcast to be suddenly and very rudely interrupted by today’s breaking news. He reached over to grab the remote, but his fingers faltered on the button as the reporter on-scene began to speak in a muffled panic into their gasmask.

“We’re getting reports of a large alien flower that fell into Edo this morning and the pollen that has contaminated the entirety of the city’s air.” Gintoki watches as the pixelated censorship surrounding the reporter barely concealed the (explicit) truth behind what’s taken over Edo. “Please be cautious as you exit your homes today, as interaction with this pollen can cause insatiable lust and—”

Gintoki’s wide eyes turn from the television to the closed room door, and he shakes his head furiously. “No, no, this is ridiculous. It’s some bad marketing scheme to sell more condoms,” he reasoned, “besides, it’s a cheap trope! There’s just no way!” but his faltering voice could not hide his concern.

He shuffled up close to his bedroom, put an ear against the shoji and held his breath.

 It’s too hot. There’s no way you could sleep like this.

Frustrated, you shoved your heavy clothes off your feverish body, hoping that the breeze would cool you down, but quickly found that—even with your entire body freed from the oppressive cloth—you were still sweating. Still uncomfortable.

Your thighs were sticky, and you reached down to wipe away at the sweat, but as your fingers brushed against your inner thigh, you realized two things: the sticky feeling against your thighs wasn’t sweat, and if you stopped touching yourself, you might actually die.

The pounding of your head stopped for brief moments as you, with as much embarrassment as someone high on aphrodisiacs could have, pressed your hand more firmly against your aching cunt and gasped. Your hips moved of their own accord, grinding against your fingers the moment you made contact.

The relief from the stimulation made you throw your head back. It was hard to keep yourself quiet when everything outside of your current field of vision faded when contested with this high. You keened as your fingers caught your clit.

You didn’t notice Gintoki slide into the dark bedroom, his eyes shaded by his bangs and his dick hard against the strain of his pants. You only opened your eyes to see his expressionless face staring at you as you pleasured yourself when the comforters shifted as he knelt above you.

“T-Toki,” you choked, the sudden attention mortifying and dizzying. Your cunt clenched against nothing, arousal gushing against your fingers as your addled mind began crying out for Gintoki, “why’m I—?”

“Are you an idiot? How did you let yourself get hit by an alien aphrodisiac?”

Your hand reached out to grasp his clothes for support as you finally slipped your fingers inside, your eyes never leaving his. “Dunno,” you slurred, clutching his yukata and tugging it uselessly, “need—I need—oh!”

Gintoki clicked his tongue and leaned down, offering you a quick and chaste kiss to see if something simple would snap you out of it already. Your eyes, blown wide, stared past him in pleasure, and it only took a moment before you lunged your body up to crash your lips to his again. “Mmf—” Gintoki pressed his hand against your clavicle and pushed your body back down as your lips broke contact. “—damn it, woman!” he cursed, “don’t throw yourself at me like that!”

You arched your back, the skin-to-skin contact of his warm hand on your chest electrifying your brain and making you pant like a dog. “—kissing won’t work,” you spoke in a rush, “need... need you to—to—fuck me!”

Gintoki’s throat went dry, watching you helplessly cry out for him while you tried to get yourself off with your small fingers. The news really didn’t prepare him for the reality of how desperate this pollen made people—but at least it told him one important thing. Sexual relief, huh?

Gintoki wordlessly stood up, ignoring your whine from his absence, and pulled off his belt, tossing it to the floor. His clothes followed, landing in a puddle beneath him, leaving himself naked before he settled himself at your feet. Your fingers squelched every time they entered you, picking up speed as you watched Gintoki strip, your eyes glued to his dick as it sprung from his pants and rested with a curve against his abdomen.

It was too much for a man to take.

“Agh, fucking fine! I’ll make you cum again and again until that stupid pollen is out of your system!” Gintoki growled out, forcefully pulling your hand from between your thighs and grasping your hips to flip you over onto your stomach with ease. Your legs spread apart naturally and he knocked them the rest of the way with his knees. “I don’t want to hear a single goddamn complaint from you about this, got it?”

Entranced, you could only plead and wiggle your ass as you clutched the comforters tightly between your fingers, turning your head over your shoulder and looking up at Gintoki with large, glassy eyes.

Chest heaving, Gintoki stroked his dick with a few furious pumps, digging his nails into your hip to keep you still as he nudged his length inside your pussy, slipping in quick and easy with how much slick dripped from you. “Shit,” he hissed as he bottomed out, irritated by your constant squirming as you tried to get him to fuck you because he was too stimulated from the way you squeezed around him, “calm down.”

“Caaaan’t!” you whined, biting your knuckles. Tears pricked at your eyes as the overwhelming need to be railed within an inch of your life—and being so close to getting what you wanted—drove you crazy. You weren’t sure how much of it was the aphrodisiac speaking, and how much of it was yourself.

Gintoki fucked you with slow, full strokes. His hands squeezed your hips and controlled you, forcing you still despite the way you tried to press your ass back into him every time he pulled out to the tip. He could feel your cunt flutter in a messy rhythm, trying to keep his cock nestled deeply inside and crying out when he only gave you the bulbous tip.

You were louder than usual; babble spilling from your lips as Gintoki’s tip knocked against your cervix with each powerful thrust. Normally, it would take a while to break you down and get you to be this shameless, but you gave it to him freely now, crying out your affections and desires, begging him to fuck you deeper, fuck you faster, make you cum.

Voice mocking, Gintoki asked you, “are you really trying to order Gin-san around?” He bent over your back, wrapping one hand around your neck and the other arm tucking beneath your breasts, pulling you up onto your knees to mercilessly pound your gummy walls with shorter, faster strokes. Gintoki huffed and stared at the blissful expression on your face. “Is this what you wanted? Huh?”

“Yesyesyes,” you threw your head back against Gintoki’s shoulder, eyes squeezed shut and mouth open with untampered pleasure. “More.”

“How greedy are you?” Gintoki grunted, flexing his forearm, putting slight pressure against your throat while he rubbed your clit with two large fingers. “Making me do all the work”—he snapped his hips against yours and shuddered as you wailed—“when this was supposed to be Gin-san’s day off?” his voice raised over the wet slaps from your slick dripping down his balls.

“’m sorry, ‘m sorry, please!” you held onto Gintoki’s biceps for dear life as your legs shook with the force of his quickening thrusts. You gritted your teeth as he pinched your clit, drool escaping the corner of your lips as your orgasms indistinguishably blended in with the buzzing of the pollen and waves of pleasure. You didn’t know how many times you came; if you came once or four times in a row, it didn’t matter, not when Gintoki kept drilling his hips into you.

Gintoki relentlessly fucked you through your spiraling high and quickly started chasing his own orgasm with each clench and squeeze from your cunt. Gintoki threw his hand back up from your clit to your breasts, fondling them roughly, pinching and tugging your nipples, his dick twitching as you choked back a yelp. He buried his face against your shoulder and bared his teeth, biting down hard enough to get a scream of his name in the darkness of his room. Gintoki lost himself in shallow thrusts, enveloped tightly by your warm, wet pussy, until he flooded your senses with his cum.

He stayed buried inside of you for a minute, tired and sweaty with the unexpected exertion. Gintoki pulled out with a low groan, momentarily entranced by the dribble of his cum following him and sticking to your thighs.

You collapsed onto the futon—gross with the mess of fluids—and sighed out with relief. “T...Thanks, Toki,” you mumbled despite your dry throat. You felt a little more normal now, but you could still feel the dull throb of your cunt was not entirely satisfied yet despite already dripping with Gin’s semen.

Gintoki rolled over next to you, his arms tucked under his head. He looked at you with some concern, wondering if he pushed you too far despite your ailment. “Better?” he asked.

You sat up and mindlessly rubbed your bitten shoulder. “Mmm...” you half-heartedly replied, your eyes trailing from Gintoki’s face down his chest, to his dick. He watched you silently as you crawled over him and sat on his thighs, your face red as you shamelessly glided your cum-soaked cunt against his dick.

Sake pours into the sakazuki in a careful stream, tilting the flask upwards as the pool fills and letting the lingering drops fall from the lip to disturb the settled alcohol. Gintoki watches each of your slow movements with a sharp eye, holding the saucer in his large, clawed fingers as you indulged him more with your precious offering.

“Man or God,” Gintoki says, his words beginning to slur together as the sake warms his blood and quenches his thirst, “you’d give anyone the wrong idea if you continue to serve with a smile like that.”

Gintoki’s fox ear twitches as he hears the faint uptick of the woman’s heartbeat. No matter how long you’ve spent in his little run-down shrine, you continue to be an easy target for teasing.

His wicked grin widens as your cheeks visibly flush, shakily pouring a half-portion into your own saucer and setting the tokkuri down. “Gin-san, please don’t say such things,” you chide behind your embarrassment. “And should you really have so much? Look, your cheeks are getting red!”

He obnoxiously slurps down the sake and holds it out to you to refill it once more. “More,” he demands, “don’t stop until the whole jug’s gone!”

Out of every human that’s come and gone from his domain, you hold the title for the most devoted—or the most stubborn. Gintoki wasn’t entirely sure what the difference was. Even in this desolate mountainside, you always hike up with something to gift him. A cloth and pale to clean, homemade food and drinks, and your wishes and prayers.

He’s long since accepted that you can’t be frightened off—every attempt he’s ever made to dissuade you from returning and letting him fade into obscurity was spectacularly rejected. And so here he finds himself again: sitting next to this (stubborn) woman and enjoying the cheap sake in a mismatched set because you poured it to him with a smile.

His senses are hazy with intoxication after drinking enough to run an entire bar out of business; fundamentally underestimating how the strength of human liquor—like human warriors—came in numbers. He had taken all of the wine he stored (stole) in his shrine after they finished your personal jug. By now, there were only enough bottles to count on one hand.

Gintoki only realizes he’s finished his cup again when you lean over him to pour another shot. He hums with approval and swirls it with a soft flick of his wrist.

In the silence, Gintoki inches closer to you, reaching his right hand out to rest against your thigh. He feels the way you tense at the contact and hears the slow exhale you relax. Your eyes stay glued to the beauty of the full moon on a cloudless night sky. He breathes a laugh at your modesty and gives your thigh a squeeze, the indentation of his claws slightly digging into your skin.

All nine of Gintoki’s silver tails sway and flick behind him, brushing up against your arm and curling around your waist provocatively. You shudder at the feather-light grazes of his fur, but do not look over even to check on how much sake he currently has left. You keep your head high, staring at the stars.

The stars. Gintoki thinks bitterly of his past and of the Gods that abandoned him—that he abandoned—as his woman keeps her attention towards those assholes sitting on thrones of stardust and precious metals instead of the deity she herself chose to pursue.

“Why do you stare off when Gin-san is right here?” Gintoki asks, not caring to mask his annoyance. When you shrug your shoulders and mumble noncommittally, he pinches your cheeks and forcefully turns your face towards his, mere inches apart. A purr rumbles in his throat as you stare at him with blown-out pupils and parted lips, shined with sake. “It’s rude to ignore someone speaking to you.”

 Under the moonlight, Gintoki is sure that you notice the predatory glint of a beast that hides in his vermillion eyes. You shiver as Gintoki releases his grasp on your face and grazes two sharp claws across your jaw and down your neck, hooking his finger into the cross of your kimono before you grab his wrist.

“I’ve been paying attention to you all night, Gintoki.” you half-heartedly argue, the blush on your cheeks no doubt worsened by alcohol.

“Kitsune are greedy creatures,” he warns, “you give me an inch and I’ll take a mile.” Gintoki leans in closer and brushes his nose against yours. “You first came to me with offerings of petty change; now I want all of you.”

You look at him in shock, as if he wasn’t seconds from devouring you every time you beamed at him. “You... you—”

Gintoki pulls his hand from your grasp and pushes you down gently into the grass you sat on. He downs his last cup of sake in one gulp with a blissful sigh, licks his lips, and straddles your hips. “Why don’t we give those lazy gods up there a nice show, since you want their attention so badly.”

He leans over and kisses your cheek chastely, whispering in your ear like he’s telling you a dirty little secret, “We can show them just how devoted you are to Gin-san.”

Your breath hitches and you keen into his touch, eyes fluttering as his large hands gently caresses your body through your clothes. You stay pliant in his grasp, and he wonders just how long he’s made you wait.

“Open yourself up to your god,”—he pulls your clothes apart, sharp nails ripping through seams he was too impatient to undress—“show me everything, give me everything.”

Gintoki leans back for a moment and greedily stares at the swell of your breasts, at the softness of your stomach, at the plush of your thighs. He presses his thumb right above your pelvis and shamelessly groans when you jerk against the pressure. “And in turn,” his lips curl widely, and he bares his fangs, “I’ll plant my seed in your maiden womb and bless you with the affections of a deity.”

He rips apart the obi around his waist and lets the monochromatic yukata fall to his feet, leaving only the jade magatamas adorning his neck. They chime as he raises your legs over his waist and slots himself between your thighs, brushing it against your bare chest as he leans down to capture your lips.

You eagerly meet his lustful kisses with your own drunken passion, curling your fingers into his soft silver curls and rubbing his ears with your thumbs. Gintoki’s chest rumbles with a purr as he squishes his pecs against your breasts with the clear intention to feel as much of it as he could. His ears bend to enjoy every little noise that escapes your lips.

He slides two of his fingers against your clit, the pressure of his body on your chest holding you still as you twitch and tug his hair from the strange pleasure. You whine against his lips as he rolls gentle circles around the nub, but his patience is thin and he’s eager to plug you full of his cum. He kisses you deeper as his fingers penetrate your tight pussy, scissoring them as far as they’d go and grinding the palm of his hand against your clit.

“Pretty,” he mumbles as you part with one last lick against your mouth. Gintoki noses your neck and grazes the skin with his sharp canines. “Even if those idiots down in the village or up in the heavens realize what they’re missing, I won’t let them have you. They lost their chance; too bad.”

You rake your nails down his broad back and bury your face against his cheek. You hiccup softly and hold him tighter. “...want you,” you admit with the help of liquid confidence, “I want you to stay by me... I want all of you, too.”

“Gonna mate you,” Gintoki’s voice edges into a growl, likely no more than babble to your ears, but still twisting your hips with every syllable. “right here—right in front of my shrine, right where those assholes can see.”

His fingers part your swollen lips, and in his anticipation, Gintoki’s tails knock over one of the empty flasks on the ground as they fan out and shade you two in your bubble of intimacy. He leans down and brushes his lips against yours, pulling back too quickly despite your desperate chase. “Are you prepared for me to take you, body, mind, and soul?”

You nod vigorously and he smiles, guiding his dick between your folds and carefully pressing into you. Gintoki watches the way your tight entrance struggles to match the girth of his cock, and he slows. Concentrations strains his shoulders as he forcefully holds himself back from recklessly fucking you like a whore, instead slowly feeding you his length inch-by-inch.

“G-Gin-san,” you gasp and clutch at the grass, tearing the soil underneath your fingertips as half of him sits heavy in your cunt, “oh gods, it’s too much—”

Ear twitching at your cry, jealousy spurs inside Gintoki’s drunken mind. His hands slid down your waist, underneath your ass (which he shamelessly squeezed), hooks underneath your thighs, and guides your knees to your chest. He locks his knees on either side of your thighs, securing you into a mating press and bullies the rest of his length inside of you until he aggressively bottoms out.

You fists your hand and bite your knuckles to stop the scream lodged in your throat. Hot, overwhelmed tears blur the corners of your eyes and slide down your cheeks. Gintoki grabs your wrist and slams it against the ground next to your head, laying his tongue flat against your cheek and lapping up the salty streak. “Be as loud as you want,” his chest rumbles against yours. “Let the world and the heavens hear the pleasure Gin-san is giving you.”

Gintoki spares you only a moment of rest before he starts thrusting in sloppy and disoriented movements—how many years has it been since he’s been nestled so tightly in someone? He can’t think with his senses overwhelmed by your trembling and keening, your cunt weakly clenching his cock as he fucks you firmly against the ground.

“Mine,” he growls, knocking the air out of his pretty little mortal, “you’re made for me.” You throw your head against the dirt, stretching your unmarred neck for him to abuse and he dives for your pulse the moment you lay yourself vulnerable before him.

He wets the spot with his tongue and grinds his hips in a small circle, overwhelming your senses before baring his teeth and biting your neck hard. He holds you still as you jerk against him and cry out in pain, a sadistic flutter in his chest enjoying the way you squirm as if you were nothing more than prey. Despite being a deity, the kitsune is still a beast.

You whimper loudly as Gintoki soothes the injury with soft kisses and licks. You rake heavy streaks of red against Gintoki’s shoulder with your free hand, nearly drawing blood as you try to ground yourself while Gintoki aims to send you spiraling into heaven. Your whole body is tense: legs jostling, toes curling, back arching, and cunt pulsing with each drag of his dick.

The base of Gintoki’s dick begins to swell—almost unnoticed at first, but the desperate, speedy thrusts slow down as his growing knot struggles to match such a brutal pace. Gintoki leans down and grits his teeth as he concentrated on fucking you with his knot, forcing you to feel the stretch and give of your entrance with each wet pop. He thrives off your bruised lips pleadingly chanting ‘Gin-san!’ after every kiss he steals while ruining you.

Gintoki’s claws find your clit and furiously rubs it while bullying his nearly formed knot into your cunt. Your hips buck and you pant heavily, eyes rolling into the back of your head as you cum hard on his dick. With your gushing slick, it finally slips through and Gintoki settles his forehead against yours, blissed out while you continue to ride your orgasm. “That’s it,” he moans as his knot locks you together, “good girl. Gonna fuck so many kits into your pretty pussy...”

He looks into your eyes and is surprised to see the heavens reflected back to him as you reel from liquor, pleasure, and love. Gintoki’s throat feels tight as he watches the stars in your eyes pool into the tears that wets your waterline. He holds your face tenderly as his hips uncontrollably jerk, still trying to fuck you. He has no use for the heavens above him now, when he finds it here in his embrace below. 

Gintoki’s talks to himself again in his pussy-drunken stupor. “I’ll take care of you,” he promises breathily, nuzzling and kissing everywhere he could reach, “make you into the prettiest wife. Keep you heavy with kids—fuck, your hips are perfect. Can’t believe no one else courted you. Mine now.” His tails go stiff as his voice grows low and dangerous, his teeth bared and body tense as his entire body shudders.

Gintaman stares at his long-lost friend with one stern eye. The other is tightly shut as the blood from his injuries runs down his chiseled face like tears, staining his gray suit jacket with every drop. He heaves with every breath, but stands tall. His once-brother shows no signs of exhaustion—of course not, a climax battle like this would be the biggest disappointment of the series if the positions were reversed.

Gurako and Patsuan stand behind Gintaman with horror on their faces, watching the scene before them unfold in silence as NPCs between the confrontation of the arc’s—the series’—grandest antagonist yet.

Gintaman steps forward, his fists clenched by his sides. “You still haven’t given up on this yet? You were being used.”

“I already know!” he yells with rage, but our hero doesn’t budge, “Still, I went along with it because I didn’t want to lose to you... Gintaman!”

The villain flicks his lighter and sucks in a deep smoky breath. “After the incident ten years ago, I made the choice to sacrifice everything to change the fates.”—

Gintoki’s eyes skim through the rest of the long-winded “this is why I became a villain and why I am going to try to kill you in ten pages” speech, far too engrossed in the active tension than the character dump the (gorilla) author clearly didn’t understand how to resolve after building it up, searching instead for the moment that shirts start flying and fists start connecting.

—“Our struggle has to end.”

“Gintaman!” Patsuan yells, his arm held back by Gurako who shakes her head, letting Gintaman continue his stride forward, who clutches at his suit jacket and rips all of his clothes—except his signature blueberry boxers—off his muscular figure.

His opponent does the same, leaving himself in banana briefs and widening his stance as he prepares to lunge at Gintaman, no more words necessary. It was a duel between hard-boiled men who communicate best with bloody knuckles.

It’s impossible to tell who gets the first hit.

They both rush forward with right hooks aimed at the chin, connecting simultaneously, and staggering each other.

Gintaman steadies himself first, throwing arms up and heaving a loud battle cry, his attack weaved through and leaving him wide open, only for—

 “Gin-to-ki.”

Your exaggerated voice calls out for him again, but he ignores it. He’ll deal with whatever you want later—right now he’s invested. He has to keep going. He struggles to find his panel amidst the action-packed pages, but quickly continues where he left off.

He ignores the shadow over him that blocks the light, dimming his manga. He can still see Gintaman’s fierce eyes.

“Sakata Gintoki.”

Gintoki makes the age-old mistake of lifting his gaze to meet yours, and before he could bark a bitter “what do you want?”, you snatch his precious Jump from his grasp and throw your arm up high, staring him down. Why would you be upset when he was the one being interrupted?!

“You’re supposed to be helping me clean today,” you scold. You keep a broom firmly in your opposite hand, and Gintoki wonders if you’d try to whack him with it if he refuses.

“It’s plenty clean here,” Gin argues, “so just let me read in peace!” Though he reaches for his Jump without moving from his position on the couch, you pull it away further.

You scowl. “It’s your mess, Gintoki. You need to pull your weight too—you can’t rely on me or Shinpachi to clean up after you.”

He’s not even listening to you ramble on about how he should be sweeping or whatever. “Give it.” Gintoki interrupts with a demand.

You move back and raise the broom towards Gintoki like a weapon, pointing the bristles at his chest to keep your distance. He stands up, towering over you even from a distance, and steps forward. You step back.

He lunges.

Weaving under his arm, you smack his back with the broom.

Oh, he’s really pissed, now.

Gintoki grabs the broom and yanks you close, sweeping his feet under yours and knocking you down to the ground so he could take the book. You tucks it close to your chest and rolls as soon as you hit the floor but you aren’t fast enough to stop Gintoki from falling to his knees and grabbing your ankle, pulling you back.

You hold Jump high above your head and kick your foot back to hit Gintoki’s chest, meeting firm muscle and barely budging him. He huffs and glowers at your feeble attempt to push him off. In a contest of strength, it’s obvious who would win. You both knew it.

“You brat,” Gintoki growls, “hand it over!”

“No!” you yelp, squirming in his hold as he firmly grasps both of your calves.

His biceps bulge against his tight shirt as he pulls you, sliding you across the floor on your stomach until he pinned your thighs down with his knees and arched over your back, forcing you still as he pries the book from your shaking hands.

There’s a moment of stillness as he keeps you pinned down, both of you panting softly from their spontaneous wrestling match, hearts racing with sexual tension thick enough to suffocate.

“C-Come on...” you whine softly as Gintoki’s weight begins to retreat from your body. It was a thinly veiled secret that you adored when he displayed his strength⁠—if the way he’s caught you staring at his arms or stomach was anything to go by. “Hurry up and get off of me, Toki...”

Gintoki considers his options; he could continue reading Gintaman and let you go, or...

He tosses Jump across the room and slides his arms under your shoulders, rolling back until he hits the couch and steadies you, confused and disoriented, onto his lap.

“Wha—ah!” you gasp, clutching onto his forearms for security as he presses your back against his broad chest, “Gin!”

“You complain too much,” Gintoki nips the shell of your ear, his frustration rolling off of him in waves. “You distracted me, and I won’t let you get off that easily—not after you made me fucking chase you.”

“But, but you—should’ve helped..!” your voice pitches higher with exasperation as Gintoki mouths at your sweaty neck.

He shamelessly grinds his growing erection against your ass. “Yeah, yeah, isn’t it about time you relaxed anyways?”

Gintoki’s hands slip underneath your clothes and makes quick work of them, tugging cloth aside and exposing your slicked folds to his fingers. Mockingly, he whistled. “Already drenched?”

“I’m not—nnh!”

Two large, calloused fingers slip inside and immediately curl upwards, catching as much of your wetness across his digits as he can. He slips them out and brings them up towards your face, scissoring his fingers and forcing you to watch how it drips down his hand and onto his wrist.

“Right,” he drawls, pretending to be bored.

You press against his arms, trying to pry yourself out of Gintoki’s embrace, but you freeze when his voice drops another octave and feels the gentle smack of his dick against your lower back as he frees it. “You can’t lie to Gin-san. You wanted me to catch you. You wanted me to pin you down.”

“And since I’m so good at making a mess,” his arms come around under your knees, pulling your thighs up close to your chest, lifting you up effortlessly, and wrapping his hands around the back of your neck to secure you in place, “I’ll fuck you on this nice clean floor and ruin all your hard work.”

You shudder and claw at Gintoki’s firm forearms, helplessly watching his cock glide against your folds, threatening to fulfill on his promise⁠—threat?⁠—to make a mess of both you and the floor.

Gintoki flexes his abs and exhales slowly as he lowers you down halfway, meeting resistance as he enters your tight hole. He arches against your back, forcing you to feel every inch of his broad chest and the subtle shifting of his muscles as he plants his feet firmly on the ground and bullies the rest of his length inside.

Your mouth falls open with low whine as his thighs go taut, the outline of his muscle strains against his pants, and he uses his legs to raise his hips and meet yours in sharp thrusts, fully taking advantage of the position he’s caught you in.

Gintoki’s hips stutter as he constantly rocks against your G-spot. His fingers tangle in the base of your hair and keeps your face angled down to watch the slight bulge of your stomach with each smack.

You cry out his name; restraining your with his body alone as he fucks you, you’re forced to confront the buzzing of lust in your head that clenches your pussy when you’re very kindly reminded of how easily Gintoki’s physical strength overwhelms your own.

“You like it when you can’t move an inch, huh?” Gintoki taunts, reading your body language—how you’re practically groping his arms—too well, “You get excited knowing that I could hurt you?” He feels your walls flutter and scoffs, a dangerous smile teasing his lips. “You’re an even bigger masochist than I thought.”

“Too much,” you choke around the breathy moans that each thrust coaxes out, “’s too much, Toki, I can’t!”